Old Chen's body glowed. Sword in hand, he swept his gaze over every opponent. Not one dared step forward. Wherever his eyes fell, those people's hearts trembled, and they retreated involuntarily.
Many people realized that Old Chen was most likely about to die!
Friend or foe alike, all could see that something was wrong with him. Lightning flashed from his chest, while terrifying muffled sounds rang out from within.
Old Chen's body trembled, and he could collapse at any moment. Yet he held on, sword in hand as he looked toward the end of the Congling Mountains horizon. His once razor-sharp gaze gradually dimmed.
The Four Elders of Old Arts had once judged that if Old Chen had been born in ancient times, at the very least he could have founded a school. If he had risen with overwhelming force into the heavens, he might even have become a Bodhisattva-level master in the Old Arts Domain.
Wang Xuan's nose stung. His senses were sharp, and he could feel the life force in Old Chen's body rapidly dwindling. He truly could not hold on any longer.
With a flying kick, he kicked away a master before him. His eyes reddened as he charged toward Old Chen. He had never imagined that his old colleague was truly about to die.
"Master!" Qing Mu growled, filled with despair and grief. In his eyes, Old Chen had been incomparably powerful and exceptionally shrewd. How could he die?
"Old Chen!" Many people cried out, unable to accept this reality.
Not long ago, Old Chen had dominated this place, like a war god descending into his body. Alone, he had slaughtered three Great Grandmasters, displaying an invincible bearing. Now his eyes had dimmed, and he was on the verge of leaving this world.
Many from the